


Progressive Forms

by demonsonthemoon



Series: Winterhawk Bingo Fills [3]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Insomnia, M/M, Student Clint Barton, Teaching Assistant Bucky Barnes, sleep-deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsonthemoon/pseuds/demonsonthemoon
Summary: Clint's new linguistics TA is really hot.It would be nice, if Clint wasn't too busy working on his class assignment to enjoy the guy's hotness.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Winterhawk Bingo Fills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885450
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	Progressive Forms

**Author's Note:**

> Fills my Winterhawk bingo square "College AU"!
> 
> If you're wondering why the organisation of the classes seems so weird, it's probably because I'm from Belgium and this fic is heavily based on my own personal experience within the Belgian system. I couldn't be bothered to do the necessary research to adapt it.
> 
> I dare you to ask me what a wh-cleft is, I DARE YOU.

“So, that TA is totally your type, right?” Bobbi asked with a smirk as they both exited their linguistics' class.

Clint wanted to argue. With anyone else, he would have argued. But considering his and Bobbi's three month long stint as a couple and the fact that she was still a regular fuck-buddy two years later, the woman was the most well-placed person to comment on Clint's potential new crush.

“How do you figure?” Clint still asked, because he wasn't about to _completely_ give up his contrarian nature. Besides, he didn't know if he really had a type. It was difficult to find that many similarities between Bobbi's svelte figure and pale blond hair and the stocky, dark-haired English linguistics TA.

“He's sarcastic, very competent at what he does and could kick your ass. Spare us the trouble and admit that he's one of your wet dreams come to life.”

“If my wet dream got lost in a Hot Topic, maybe.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes at his comment, but she had the self-satisfied smile of someone who knew she was right and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

And, okay, yes, the linguistics TA _was_ very cute.

If you considered “dressed in all black, long hair that could use a wash and a trim, resting bitchface and muscled thighs” to be a cute look. Clint certainly did.

He'd introduced himself as James Barnes, and was currently pursuing his master's degree in linguistics, which meant that he was only a year or two older than Clint, who was finishing his bachelor's.

Which meant he totally had a chance, right?

James was a student as well, so it wasn't inappropriate for Clint to try and flirt with him. Right?

If Clint ever even got a chance to flirt. The lab hours that James was supervising were part of a group research project, and of course Clint had paired up with Bobbi, but the woman was adamant about keeping her grades up, which meant that she wasn't above stepping on Clint's toes every time he got the slightest bit distracted by James' thighs or hands or general air of badassery.

Three weeks into the semester, Clint was seriously considering buying steel-toed boots. Bobbi _knew_ about his crush, it was unfair of her to torture him in this way.

“Wait, James? You mean James Barnes is your TA?”

Natasha had treated Clint to good coffee, and he'd spent the last ten minutes in a happy daze, babbling about nothing and everything. Which of course meant he'd spent quite a while waxing poetics about James' brooding figure.

“Uh... yeah. Do you know him?”

Natasha chuckled to herself. “I should have known. We were in the same General Linguistics class.”

That... made sense. Clint and Natasha were both in the same year and shared their Italian classes, but Natasha was majoring in Russian alongside it, while Clint had stuck to English. For some reason, English majors took General Linguistics during their second year, while everyone else in the Letters and Languages faculty took it during their first. If James was one year above, it was logical that he'd ended up in the same course as Natasha.

“But that class is huge! How do you know who he is?”

Natasha shrugged. “He also hangs around the Russian department quite a lot, so I recognized him and decided to pester him. It made the mandatory tutorials a lot more fun.”

Clint was flabbergasted for about too second, his brain not exactly processing the fact that someone could spontaneously decide that pestering James “Not-that-tall, Dark and Broody” Barnes in the middle of a class was a good idea. Then he remembered who his best friend was.

Natasha Romanoff was absolutely fearless. The professors were the ones to avoid her gaze when she decided to get her coffee in the Russian department building. It was rumored that the man who'd been teaching the Introduction to Russion Literature had resigned solely because of her, and Natasha had never denied the fact. Of course she'd thought annoying Clint's current crush was a good idea.

“So... what is he like?”

Natasha raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow and smirked, and Clint rolled his eyes at her because he was well aware that he sounded pathetically desperate.

“Come _on_ , Nat.”

“Mmh... I don't know him _that_ well, you know. He seems a lot more quiet than you.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “As if that's hard for anyone except Scott. You can do better.”

“Touché. He's smart, but obviously you knew that since he's your teacher. Driven, too. The kind of person to become obsessed with their work. Not very open, at least not with most people. But I think he's a decent person.”

Clint grinned. Coming from Natasha, that was pretty much a ringing endorsement. Better, it meant that she was supportive of Clint's infatuation.

She acted exasperated by Clint's gleeful expression, but he was _totally_ onto her, Natasha was _happy for him!_

But that didn't mean she was happy _with him,_ or with his constant complaining about his English liguistics project. And okay, maybe Clint _should_ actually stop complaining. It wasn't Natasha's fault that the topic Bobbi and he had chosen had turned out to be more complicated than expected and that Bobbi was forcing him to work himself into an early grave because she wouldn't accept to hand in a paper that wasn't absolutely perfect. But it wasn't _Clint_ 's fault either!

The endless scrutiny of wh-clefts had about managed to suck all of the pleasure Clint had found in James' classes, which was just a tragedy. Especially since he only had one class left with the man, but could expect to spend at least two more weeks analyzing all of his share of samples so they could finish the useless paper.

Clint knew this work was important. It meant a lot to Bobbi, and it would do his own grades heaps of good if he could get it right. But that knowledge only made it harder to focus on the work. Clint might have been panicking a little.

He really wanted to do well.

He didn't want James to know that he was struggling.

Maybe it was stupid. The guy was a teaching assistant. He was here to teach and assist. To help people who were struggling. But Clint couldn't help but feel that admitting to his panic would be showing weakness and making a bad impression. The chance to actually interact with the man wasn't worth that.

When the day of the last lab finally arrived, Clint was _exhausted_. He walked into class with a large cup of coffee and printouts of the last batch of sentence samples he'd manage to sort through the night before. Insomnia had kicked him in the ass like it loved to do, and at the time it had seemed like a good idea to work through the spell and make himself feel somewhat productive. Except that now he couldn't stop himself from yawning and would have to cross-check what he had done the night before, because he wasn't convinced that the last half hadn't been worked through in the middle of a lucid dream.

Talk about making a good impression on James. At least Clint was lucky that Bobbi would never allow him to fall asleep in class.

His friend did take pity on him, helping him check his analysis without fuss or complaint, and not once mocking him for the way his jaw tried to detach itself from his face every few minutes.

She didn't look too hot herself, and maybe she was realizing that they couldn't keep pushing themselves so hard.

Maybe.

It wasn't that Bobbi was a bad friend. She wasn't. She was pretty great, even. Sharp and incisive, and she pushed hard, but Clint knew that he could count on her. If he tapped out, she would respect it.

Clint didn't want to tap out.

Not when there was a chance he'd get through this without needing to. Not when this project meant so much to her, and had come to mean something to him. He just wanted to prove that he could do it.

And if that meant screwing up all the chances he had of having a shot with their TA... Well. It wasn't like Clint had much of a chance to begin with.

The next two hours were some of the most gruelling of his life, but Clint survived. Bobbi's sharp focus helped strengthen his own, until nothing existed in the world other than his computer screen and the printouts spread on the table between him and his friends.

In the end, Clint barely looked at James for the entire duration of the class.

The man's voice announcing that it was time for them to pack up snapped Clint out of his daze, and it felt like being shaken awake.

He and Bobbi weren't done, but they had known they wouldn't be. They'd already planned to meet up in the afternoon two days from then to keep working.

“So, this was our last session together. I hope you've all made good progress. If you have any other question, please contact Professor Coulson and not me from now on. I wish you all good luck on your papers.”

As far as closing statements went, this one sounded a little mechanical, a bit rehearsed, but not dishonest. Clint barely listened to the words, but Jame's voice was enough to cut through the exhaustion coating his brain and settle as a painful twist in his stomach.

Right. It had been fun while it lasted.

As fun as linguistics research tutorials could be.

The few students present started to pack up after a few half-hearted thank you's, and Clint followed their lead. He wondered if he had enough time to get himself another coffee before his Italian literature lecture.

Probably not. He fished his phone out of his pocket as he started walking away, hoping that Natasha could pick up a drink for him. He was looking at his screen and pulling up a text window, and did not notice the figure stopping to pick up discarded papers on a desk before he bumped into it, tripped on his own feet, and dropped both his phone and his empty cup of coffee.

He would probably have dropped his entire _self_ onto the floor as well if it hadn't been for James catching him by the arm and steadying him.

Clint stared at the mess on the floor. This was exactly the reason why he had gone back to flip phones a long time ago. The battery of his had come out and he couldn't see it right away, which meant it had probably slid under a desk.

Clint stared at James' hand on his upper arm, which let go. Clint didn't really want it to let go.

Finally, after what felt like an age and a half, Clint looked up and stared at James' face.

There was a half-smile resting on James' lips, and it was doing unspeakable things to Clint's sleep-deprived brain.

“I- Uuuh...” Clint started talking out of reflex, before realizing that he couldn't manage much more than monosyllables right then.

“Don't hurt yourself,” James said. He could have been referring to Clint's narrowly avoided confrontation with the floor, but his smile had turned into enough of a smirk that Clint felt safe in assuming that he was making fun of his inability to speak instead.

Apparently, James Barnes was an asshole, and Clint hated the fact that he didn't exactly _mind_.

He shook himself out of his stupor and bent down to retrieve his phone, finding the battery under one of the desks like he'd predicted. He put both pieces into one of his pockets, then picked up the coffee cup and its lid. There was a stain on the floor from what dregs had been left inside, but it was small and Clint didn't feel too bad about leaving it as it was. He didn't have any tissues on him and he wasn't about to mop the floor with his shirt in front of his TA.

“I'm sorry-” Clint stopped himself before calling the other man by his first name – which was how he'd been referring to him in his head - not sure if it would be seen as invasive or not. “Uh- sir. I tripped. I'll just- I'm just gonna go now.”

He could feel himself blush, and also Bobbi's judgmental gaze. He hadn't checked whether she was waiting for him by the door, but he would have bet good money on it.

“I officially am no longer your teacher and haven't been for the past five minutes. There's no need to call me sir. That is, unless you want to.”

Clint swallowed. Had that been-?

Yup. There was another smirk on James' lip, and a suggestively raised eyebrow, and that had _definitely_ been a come-on. Holy cats.

“Yes. I mean, I, uh...”

James chuckled.

Clint took a breath.

“I swear I'm better at this usually,” he said. “I'm just really tired.” _No shit, Sherlock._ “Do you want to have coffee with me?”

James' smile softened. “Sure. Are you free right now?”

And Clint wasn't, or at least he wasn't supposed to be. But he knew Natasha would agree if he asked her to copy her notes. Italian literature could wait. Dante was already dead, he wasn't going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> By the way when I said this is based on my personal experience I meant that 1. I had a crush on my very cute TA when I took that class and 2. I then became the very cute TA the next year. No one tried to flirt with me, sadly.


End file.
